BLOOD RED ROSES
by Crucis
Summary: The ton of Lawlor's Pond has a legend. A legend of disappearing children, a monster and two heroes who came to town. A legacy is left behind, a myth of Blood Red Roses. Disclaimer: I do not own, nor are receiving monetary compensation. Supernatural is owned by Eric Kripke, the CW network and others in the alphabet. This is done merely out of love for the show and its characters.


Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. That privilege belongs to Eric Kripke, his company and the CW network. No money is being made by this project, It's done for love of the show, characters, and enjoyment they have, and continue, to provide us!

Earth ceased spinning on a Thursday night for one person. The rest of the world neither noticed or would have cared. One person did though...

Running through the woods at night was never one of Sam Winchester's favorite things. Running without a flashlight in the dark in the woods was even higher on that list.

However, running through the night woods, sans flashlight, with a badly injured brother across his shoulder was in a special HATE TO HAVE HAPPEN list unto itself.

Nothing, absolutely nothing had gone right on this one and now, now things were even worse...

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Eve, the Mother of all monsters, knew she was dying the moment the Phoenix ashes entered her system. In anger, she sent out on last blast of energy, one last creation that would wreck havoc wherever it landed. Her children had been murdered. So be it then, so would others feel her loss.

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Sam and Dean Winchester were hunkered down in the bunker of The Men of Letters, steadily working their way through one of many storerooms located throughout the facility.

Rain had kept them inside for several days and both were feeling the need to move out and hit the road.

Dean, the elder Winchester was always up for a road trip and a good hunt. Being raised from the age of four on the road had left him feeling wary of being in one place for any length of time, even the in the bunker the brothers called home.

As for Sam, he was often amused at his own willingness to hit the rod and travel after years of yearning for stability. He had accepted that 'normal' for his family had a different meaning than for others. While he still looked wistfully at families who looked happy when they were traveling he knew that was not in his future. Besides, passing on his demon blood to another generation was not something he wanted to pass to a possible child.

After clearing out the current storeroom they were working in, both decided it was time for lunch and a break.

Barely had they walked into the living area of the bunker when a phone rang. Before they could answer, the caller hung up but left a message.

" _Sam, Dean, this is Krissy. Listen we heard of a problem in Lawler's Pond, Mississippi. We can't get to it, but some kids are missing. Could you guys check it out? Thanks."_

"Rain is supposed to stop tonight. We can be on the road early in the morning. If we drive straight through, we can be in Mississippi early evening. Lawler's Creek is just over the border.' commented Sam as he checked his laptop.

"Sounds good," replied Dean with a sigh, "though I wish we could talk Krissy out of hunting. It's already cost her her dad and I don't want to attend her funeral."

"Not a salt and burn either of us want, Dean. Unfortunately, we can't stop her."

"I know. Suppose I fix us some lunch, you check the weapons and we'll get a 3 or 4 am start."

As Sam nodded, both men went their respective ways.

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Driving into Mississippi the next evening, the first thing they noticed was the humidity. Next, the trees. Tall, stately Spruce Pines along with Loblolly and Long Leaf Pines grew thickly along the road. Driving by, and crossing over bodies of water showcased beautiful Bald Cypress.

Less than hour into the state showed them pulling into Lawler's Pond. Checking for a motel, they pulled into Tall Pines EZ Sleep, quickly got a room and settled in to go to work.

Ignoring the generic décor, Dean started cleaning the weapons while Sam hit the internet, slipping in and out of official records and sites without leaving a trace behind.

"Okay, here's what I can find so far. Three children under the age of six have disappeared over the last two years. That may not sound like much, but the population here is only 1548 so it's an incredibly high rate. Also, withing a 75 mile radius, there are more missing kids, but the center seems to be here. It's been kept quiet but local and state agencies have no clue. Multiple jurisdictions means no one has put it together yet. So far, the Feds have not been called in."

"Any clues or ideas? Any specific area of investigation?"

"Nope. Parents, care givers, teachers, minister, etc have all been checked, double checked and cleared. Kids have gone missing from playgrounds, yards, houses. The only common thing is several parents found water in a few of the room, like someone walked through water then across the floor."

"So a Kelpie? Water Sprite? Naw, too active for either of those. There's been no demon signs so what are we looking at?"

"I don't know. Could be something new. I've not run across anything like this in the bunker. No bones or body parts have been found."

"So definitely not a Kelpie since they go for the liver. Sprites only attack if they feel threatened. Wrong type of water for Selkie. Too irregular and too old to be a witch. So what are we looking at?"

"I have no clue, but I figure we really need to check out the pond And see what we can see."

Giving a quick nod, Dean put the clean weapons away and both men prepared for bed.

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The next morning saw two men in a black classic car drive out of town while munching down on drive through breakfast food.

Twenty minutes found them scoping out the area around Lawler's Pond. Walking a grid pattern found nothing until "Sam! I got prints!"

Jogging over, Sam saw swatches of grass mashed down in a semi regular pattern that led directly into the water. Uneasily they looked over the dank, dark water of the pond. Tall reeds and overgrown grass surrounded the pond, but nothing else alive could be seen or heard.

In silent agreement, they left and returned to town.

As night came on, the brothers continued to research, trying to find a clue to what they were chasing.

Finally, pizza was ordered to fill hungry stomachs. After thirty minutes or so, the expected knock came at the door. Rising quietly, Sam made his way over and opened it. Rising his hands, he backed up slowly causing Dean to go "What the f..." before flinging his own in the air.

"Howdy boys! Got your large Supreme with a salad here. Hope your hungry!' was the cheerful announcement from the delivery man, who happened to be wearing a Sheriff's uniform.

"Now why don't you two boys have a seat and let's have us a chat. By the way, name's Sheriff David Mosely."

Carefully the Winchester's sat, careful to keep their hands in sight of the lawman.

"Now boys, we have us a problem. See, this is a small town and everyone know everybody. You can't spit in a small southern town without everyone knowing it in a matter of a few minutes. Hell, the great grandmas around here could probably even tell what brand of underwear I got on."

Taking a seat, Sheriff Moseley continued. " We've had some kids around her disappear, and guess what? Another kid's gone today and you are the only strangers in town. You get my drift here?"

Bolting up and walking back and forth in agitation, Dean yelled, "Another one? Son of a bitch, it's speeding up it's kills!"

Knowing Dean tended to lose his cool when cases involved kids, Sam still gave a wince hearing a low voice say in a deep drawl "It's?"

Sighing, Sam figured this time, the truth was the only thing keeping them from a chain gang. Moving to the table, he picked u their research and silently handed it over.

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David Mosely wasn't a stupid man by any means. He'd earned an academic scholarship to 'Ole Miss' and graduated with honors. A degree in Criminal Justice had served him well, helping to get him elected Sheriff for three terms.

Still, he was a product of the deep South where ghosts, evil omens, and old wives tales were passed from generation to generation. While most proclaimed not to believe, he knew most still held a kernel of fear in their souls that there was some truth there. As did he.

After reading the material he'd been given twice, the Sheriff sighed, laid the papers down and stated in a no nonsense voice, "Explain"

Sam begin by telling the Sheriff what they knew, the number of children missing the his city, the surrounding areas, how they had copies of the lab work showing the water was from the pond, as well as the multiple jurisdictions that were involved.

While Mosely knew about the kids from his town and the surround area, he hadn't been aware how far reaching the disappearances had actually been. Sickened, he asked "Are y'all reporters looking for a story? Cashing in on people's grief? What are you doing here?"

The brothers looked at each other, holding a quiet conversation in a matter of seconds. Fascinated, Mosely waited for a reply. He knew the moment a decision had been made. As to what is was, he had no idea.

"No", spoke the older one in a quiet voice. "We're not reporters, try to avoid them if we can. Sheriff, I can't explain, but we think we can stop this."

Taking off his hat and scratching the back of his neck, David Mosely looked at the two younger men, studying them closely. "How?"

"At this point, we don't know. But, we have some...unusual knowledge that may let us figure it out. Sheriff, whatever is taking these kids isn't human and I think you know that. If we can figure out what it is, we can kill it and stop this." came the answer from the taller man.

"Boys, are you Hunters?"

"How..what... did you...? Whadyasay?"

A piercing whistle put an end to the quick questions coming from both Winchesters at the same time.

"Knew someone once upon a time. I don't think that matters right now. Now answer the question. You know what? Never mind, you are what you are. Now, can you stop this?"

"We will one way or another." came a soft reply from Sam.

Looking at the two in front of him, Sheriff Mosely studied their eyes and realized these two may look young, but in experience were old souls who had seen much. Trusting his gut and nodding slowly, he headed for the door, throwing out, "I'll let people know You'll be left alone."

"Come by the station tomorrow. I'll have copies of what we have waiting for you."

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Still convinced after a night of tossing and turning, Dean played the older brother card and refused to let Sam accompany him to the station. He even left 'Baby' in case Sam needed a quick getaway. He was halfway convinced he'd get the station only to have the FBI jump out, yell "FOOLED YOU!" and take them into custody.

Instead, a Deputy had cheerfully handed over several files, copies of forensics and a basket of food. "Thought you might get a bit hungry going out to the Pond today!"

Sam laughed so hard he fell off the bed at Dean's bewilderment. "Dean, these people are losing their children, They're desperate and we are trying to help. Man, when did it get so hard to accept kindness from people?"

With a sour look, Dean replied "Birth!" sending Sam into another laugh filled fit. Secretly, Dean was pleased. It'd been a long time since he'd heard Sam sound so happy. Of course, Sam wasn't to know that.

Reading everything over and over, neither brother could figure out what they were facing. Finally, they decided one gun with silver bullets, one with iron, salt shells for the shotgun, knives of silver, cold iron, brass, and a couple of machetes. They felt one or the other would work and decapitation was usually terminal.

Later that Tuesday morning, they set out. Leaving town, they noticed people stopping to watch and realized the Sheriff had kept his word.

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Arriving at the pond, both were stuck by the unnatural silence. No birds chirped, no insects buzzed, there was no soft breeze blowing through.

Alert, once again they did a grid check, crisscrossing the uneven ground in a three by three grid. Stopping briefly to eat a quick bite, the search continued to later afternoon. Finding nothing of value, the brothers began to search the edge of the large pond hoping to find something.

Lawler's Pond, although deep, was narrow enough they were able to keep each other in sight while skirting the small sandy banks. Still, nothing was found at first.

Night came, flashlights were turned on when a gurgling came from deep beneath the surface of the stagnant water.

As long as he lived, Sam would never be able to completely describe the creature that broke the surface at the pond. The smell came first, dank and rotting, it was almost overpowering, bringing up a gag reflex. It looked gelatinous, twisting and turning in on itself so that it's form seemed to change by the second. There was nothing that resembled arms or legs, just thick strands that seemed to move about then retract back into the body. One moment it appeared thin, then thick. There was no real color just an impression of transparent gray. The creature didn't walk as much as glide across the water to the shore.

Primal fear arose, temporarily freezing both Hunters.

In moves practiced since they were small, the two brothers drew and fired, Dean with silver, Sam with iron. When nothing happened, both men hit it with salt shells.

Nothing.

Waiting till it came ashore, Sam rounded one end of the water and both closed in to attack with machetes. Being closer, Dean made the first strike.

Striking the thing was like using a dull spoon to scoop solid frozen ice cream.

Knowing and dreading getting closer, the two drew knives and proceeded to attack.

Whatever this thing was, Sam's cold iron knife did not damage. As he'd strike, the body seemed to mesh back together with no damage.

However, Dean's silver knife brought forth a high pitched, shrill shriek that seemed to start at the base of their spines and vibrate upwards. Neither had heard such a sound and neither wished to again.

Drawing his silver knife, Sam moved toward the creature as it reached out a strand of itself towards his brother. He knew he was going to be too late to stop what was happening.

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As soon as he saw the thick strand coming toward him, Dean turned to run, to try to find a better spot to take a stand. Unable to outrun it, he was grabbed from behind and lifted several feet off the ground.

As Sam watched in horror, he could see the tentacle tightening around his brother's chest and hear Dean begin to struggle to breathe. Reaching the appendage, he began to hack at it hoping to hurt it enough to get Dean released.

As the one tentacle released Dean, another grabbed him. Raising him high in the air, it slammed him down to the wet ground making a sickening thudding noise. Again, as Sam cut the tentacle, another erupted to continue beating Dean into the ground over and over.

The harder Sam fought, the worse things got for Dean. Finally, understanding nothing was working, that he was only making the creature angry, Sam lost it. Dean was unconscious, bleeding, and he knew there were broken bones. What he didn't know was if his brother was alive.

When Azazel died, Sam's visions had diminished. He knew he still had flashes, but nothing he could remember with certainty. He'd told Dean the visions were gone and so was all the other 'gifts' he'd been given as Lucifer's vessel.

He knew Dean had been relieved, so he hadn't told him that some abilities remained, ones he had been born with. The one's he had under control. The one's that had passed to him through his mother. The one's that had brought him and his mother to Azazel's attention as the demon had the ability to know who could bear such children.

Dean only cared the demon was dead, but Sam had been curious and kept digging. What he found would have upset the sometimes very fragile relationship he has with his brother, so he'd kept his mouth shut.

More than once, he'd 'frozen' Dean just for a second to save his life. He'd been careful, but now careful was out the window.

Standing tall, he threw out his hand, focused with all his being and felt power flow through him. As if it was time lapsed photography, he saw the creature move slower and slower til it seemed it was moving through molasses. Gritting his teeth together, and ignoring the pounding in his head, he reached deeper than he had ever before and concentrated.

Sound ceased as he opened his eyes to see the creature unable to move. He could still feel it's malevolence as he ran to it and began to rend it to pieces with the iron knife he held.

Time lost all meaning as he hacked, unaware he was screaming the whole time for Dean not to die. Suddenly, his knife hit nothing. Looking down he saw the creature was dead. Throwing salt and lighter fluid on it, he lit it aflame and raced to his brother.

Reaching Dean, Sam was almost afraid to check for a pulse, He knew Dean was seriously if not critically injured from the blood coming out his mouth. Shaking fingers reached out and felt a faint, thready pulse in Dean's neck. He could see his brother breathing, but they were shallow and irregular.

Doing a quick look-see, Sam knew one leg was probably broken, probable internal injuries, but the worst was Dean's chest. One side looked normal, the other appeared as two separate sets of ribs. 'Broken' came a rapid thought.

Knowing time was of the essence, He picked his brother up and headed into the woods surrounding the pond, his goal was get to the car.

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Running through the woods at night was never one of Sam Winchester's favorite things. Running without a flashlight in the dark in the woods was even higher on that list.

However, running through the night woods, sans flashlight, with a badly injured brother across his shoulder was in a special HATE TO HAVE HAPPEN list unto itself.

Nothing, absolutely nothing had gone right on this one and now, now things were even worse...

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No more than five minutes had passed before Baby came into view, but to Sam it felt a lifetime. Every step seemed to take eternity. 'Don't die on me, don't die on me, don't die on me' over and over echoed through his mind.

Reaching the car, he gently laid Dean in the back, ran to the driver's door and took off.

Sam knew from his research into the area, the nearest trauma center was 37 miles away. Gunning the engine, he raced down the two lane country road straddling the white line. Scared, worried, he felt the trip was taking forever so relief flooded him when he saw the blue sign Hosp this way.

Having to hit the brakes so hard to stop caused him to slide to the entrance of the E.R. Personnel came running as he threw open the back door to grab Dean.

"Please help! Please!" was heard as a gurney was raced out. Dean was on his way into the building with personnel already beginning to work to save a life.

As Sam followed, he attempted to answer the rapid fire question coming from all directions

No allergies.

Dean McClure

31

Brother

Asked to wait in the hall, Sam watched as his brother clothes were cut away even as a Dr. began to assess him. He could hear orders being tossed out:

Xray

Lab

Vitals

Then "We're losing him!"

Sam moved from the door as people rushed in with equipment. Two steps back brought him against the opposite wall, where he slid to the floor. Words he didn't want to hear echoed in his head:

B/P 62/39 and falling

Heart rate decreasing

No pulmonary exchange

Intubate

Clear

Increase to 250

Clear

Then there was the one word he wanted so desperately to hear: "We got a pulse!"

Vaguely aware of someone trying to get his attention, Sam looked up to see one of the Drs standing there.

"Mr. McClure? We need to get your brother into surgery. He has internal injuries and there are signs of bleeding. I'm sorry, but we need paperwork signed."

Gabbing papers and hurriedly signing, he stood up as the gurney was rushed toward the elevator at the end of the hall.

Attempting to follow, his arm was suddenly grabbed. Trained reaction caused him to pivot to strike when he realized he was facing a nurse.

"I'm sorry, Mr. McClure, but we need this paperwork done and then I'll take you to the surgical waiting room. Also, I want a Dr to see you. You've have a pretty bad nose bleed. Please."

'Well, hell!' came mentally as Sam realized he hadn't even known he was bleeding.

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Getting checked out was easy. A quick exam, a few "I don't know how I got a nosebleed", yessir yessir three bags full and he was suddenly in a chair in the waiting room writing.

Name: Dean McClure

Age: 31

Residence: 1818 Southway #9

Lebanon, Ks 66952

Allergies: None

Scars:

'Oh yeah' thought Sam, there were scars. And he knew where they were and what caused the majority. Left ankle was the Black Dog in OK, left calf the Chupacabra in TX, back the Wendigo in CO, neck the vampires in New York, hands too many monsters to name.

Extreme sports always seemed to work as an excuse.

Turning in the papers, Sam was taken to the surgical waiting room on the second floor to wait for what he didn't know, but he prayed for good news.

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There are two constants in waiting rooms, loneliness and fear. Loneliness because even if someone is with you, you still feel isolated, fear because you have no clue what is happening.

What you are left with was memories. Memories of an older brother playing with him in motel parking lots, protecting him at school, teaching him to shoot and fight, making sure he was fed, saving his life and soul. So many memories that starred his older sibling that Sam was overwhelmed, not realizing he was crying.

It was Tuesday night and the Earth had ceased spinning.

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Hours can seem like eternity when waiting for news of a loved one. As Dawn began to break, Sam was edging into full blown panic. Knowing he had to keep calm to keep mind from releasing a devastating force, he took deep breaths, paced back and forth, worried, afraid. Too much time had passed for him to think Dean would survive.

He knew if Dean did die, he would follow soon. The only question was how?

As his thoughts became more morbid, he saw a Dr enter the room asking for family of McClure. When he responded, the Dr asked him to follow him.

Sitting down in a small room, he impatiently waited. Before he could ask, the Dr stated, "I'm Dr. Gomez. I operated on your brother. He's alive, but in bad shape. His prognosis very poor."

Taking a deep breath, the Dr continued. "He has a collapsed right lung, lung contusions both sides, 4 broken ribs, one on the left, three on the right. We had to remove his spleen, part of his liver, and part of the small bowel. His kidneys are bruised and he has a fracture of his left pelvis bone."

"You have to understand, he can live without part of his liver, but added to the other injuries, I..., well, if you have any family, I'd get them here as soon as possible."

Looking at the obviously distraught young man in front of him, the Dr debated telling him the rest. He could tell the brother was on an edge and he didn't want to be the one the push him over.

Finally continuing "We lost him on the table once, but were able to resuscitate. He has other fractures and injuries, but these are the main ones." Placing a hand on Sam's shoulder, he told him someone would be there to take him to his brother after he was settled in the SICU.

"I sweat to you we WILL do everything we can for him. I just can't promise anything."

As Dr Gomez left the room, he heard a small voice say 'There is no one else"

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Minutes seemed like hours as Sam waited to see Dean. His nerves stretched taut, he kept pacing like a wild caged animal waiting for the chance to attack his captors. Finally, a nurse asked him to follow her.

Sam's first look at Dean almost brought him to his knees. Pale and unresponsive, Dean seemed more mechanical than human due to the machines he was hooked up to.

Monitors and more monitors looked to cover almost every square inch of room with multiple IVS, including blood, hanging from both sides of the bed. Bandages were everywhere; arms, legs, torso, even his head was wrapped. Skeletal traction with a large pin was sticking out of his right leg and lower leg was in a cast. Both arms were immobilized close to the chest.

A catheter showed pinkish tinged urine while the noise of the respirator seemed to drown out his ability to think.

Feeling light headed, Sam didn't even realize he had gone stark white , his knees had buckled and he'd headed for the floor.

Dimly, he was aware of someone yelling "I need help here!" and the room suddenly was so crowded...

Coming more aware, Sam knew he was sitting in a chair with his head resting on his knees. One person to his left taking his blood pressure, the one on his right was monitoring his pulse.

Embarrassed, he sat up and tried to give a smile. "I'm ok really. I just...seeing him...I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, sugar. We just want to make sure you are alright" came a slow drawl.

"If you're sure you are ok, we'll let you set awhile, but we'll be in and out checking on both of you. Here's some juice and a sandwich. Eat sweetie." came the admonishment as they left.

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"Well, Dean here we are again. I'll never get used to this, seeing you hurt. Please, please don't go. I won't be far behind you!"

Moving his chair closer, he hesitantly took his brother's hand, crying silently.

"I know I don't tell you this enough, but I need you here with me. I need my big brother to keep me in line sometimes, even when I don't listen. I need you to keep me from going off the deep end. I don't want a world with you in it. Co-dependent doesn't even come close man. I won't survive without you."

"Selfish much? Yeah, where you are concerned I am. Touchstone number 1, remember. You keep me sane when memories push in. Cause of you, I can push back and still stand."

Falling quiet, he held on to Dean as if willing him his own strength.

People continued to rotate in and out. Vital signs monitored, urine checked, traction taken care of, the patient turned and all the endless tasks of a critical care patient dealt with.

Dr. Gomez entered, did a thorough check and told Sam there was no significant change, but he would be allowed to stay as long as he liked. Sam took this to mean they expected Dean to die soon.

They were wrong, Sam expected Dean to live.

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Minutes have the unfortunate tendency to turn into hours. Hours which passed with the bustle of people in and out of the room, the whirring of machinery, but total stillness from the figure in the bed.

That scared Sam more than anything. Dean was brash, loud, and when he wasn't hunting there was no way to miss his presence. This quiet was unnatural and more than anything he wanted his brother to make some sort of noise even if only a moan or groan. Anything to assure him this waking nightmare was almost over.

Wednesday passed the same way. No movement or improvement, but the staff cold still hear Sam whispering to his brother, begging him not to die. The only time he left Dean's side was a quick phone call, then immediately returning to his vigil.

Thursday was no different, except the bedside voice had become hoarse. Frankly, the staff was amazed the patient was still among them. All were worried about the younger brother though. Gently plying had gotten some fluids and food down him, but all could tell he was at the end of his rope. If there was no improvement soon and Dean did die, most were afraid they would have two deaths on their hands.

Friday dawned bright and early. As the sun began to shine through the open blinds, Sam awoke from a short nap stiff and sore. Once more he moved his chair to the bed and held a hand.

Quietly he began to speak.

"You know Dean, I've learned so much from you. You're a good man and the best brother I could have ever gotten. I should have told you sooner. If you wake up I promise, I swear on Mom's grave I will talk to you and tell you anything you want to know. Just please wake up!"

That evening, wanting to feel useful, he helped turn Dean and gave him a bed bath, the whole time teasing him about the pretty nurses he was missing.

The worst though was when they had to use suction to keep Dean's lungs clear. Just the sound alone was enough to make him gag, but he refused to leave the room.

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Friday came and went with no notice from Sam. Lack of sleep, stress and worry were beginning to take a toll. He'd always been quick to lose weight so it was no surprise to him to feel his jeans looser. He simply didn't care.

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Saturday, Dr Gomez finally told Sam he either went to the Drs lounge, showered, washed his hair and slept for two hours or security would have to remove him.

After pleading to stay, Sam finally gave him.

Two and half hours found him back at Dean's side. He had to admit being cleaner and getting a decent nap had helped.

Refusing any lunch, he swore he would try supper once Dean was bathed and turned.

He kept his word. He tried but he was too worried to eat much.

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By Sunday, Sam had developed mild shakes in his hands from hunger. Already the sharp planes of his face were standing out even more. The staff was worried they'd have another patient on their soon if something wasn't done. Dr Gomez walked into the room, handed Sam a pill cup with two large vitamins, a nutritional drink and bottle of water.

"Look you're worried. I get it. I do. But, if you don't take care of yourself, I'm going to have to admit you for your own good. As you are not critical care, you will not be admitted on this floor and will not be allowed to visit... Do you understand what I'm telling you son?"

Nodding, Sam replied. "Yes, sir. I do. I'll take better care. You got to understand, Dean's all I've got. I had some...problems a few years ago and the only reason I'm alive is lying in that bed. I can't lose him,I just can't!"

Speaking softly, Dr Gomez told him he did understand as he had brother and sister too. He told Sam that quite honestly he believed the only reason Dean was alive was due to Sam.

He also told Sam that Dean would be going for some tests later and no, he could not go with him. He could go eat then nap again. Quiet agreement reached his ears.

When the attendants came and wheeled Dean out of his room, Sam rode the elevator down to the ground floor and followed the signs to the cafeteria. Ordering some vegetable soup, side of rice, and orange juice, he managed to eat almost every bite.

Walking back to the room, he could feel the saliva building up. Telling himself he wouldn't be sick, he made it back to his chair. Deep breathing kept the nausea down to the point he didn't lose his cookies, but it was close. That more than anything made him mentally agree to follow the dr's orders for himself.

Falling asleep, he quickly woke as Dean was wheeled back in the room. Standing patiently, he waited till they were alone before moving to what he was mentally calling 'his spot' and waited for the Dr.

When Dr. Gomez arrived, Sam's heart sank as the Dr was shaking his head. Trying to steel himself, he tried to prepare for the bad news.

Then, a smile. "I don't know what to tell you, Sam, but there is slight improvement. His kidneys are trying to clear and his respiratory functions have improved. I don't know who's watching out for you too, but it looks like Dean's chances are greatly improved. Don't get me wrong. He still has a long way to go, but his chances are better. He's not out of the woods yet, so patience."

A blinding smile greeted his words. "He'll make, he has too. Dean is the strongest soul I know."

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By the next Tuesday, Sam's spirits had fallen. While Dean seemed to be improving, he still hadn't woken or gave an indication he was aware. Once again, he had lost weight, became pale and stopped eating.

He'd stopped sleeping. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the attack that left Dean in such bad shape. He'd fallen asleep several times only to awaken himself with a yell.

Logically he knew Dean was better. Emotionally, he felt swamped by worry. He'd been shocked in the bathroom to see his reflection. Circles under his eyes made it look as if he'd had them blackened in a bar brawl. His closes were even more loose, and eating just made him ill.

Sam knew he had to get a hold of himself, but was finding it difficult to care about anything but Dean waking up.

Two days later, prayers to an absent God were answered. Dean became restless and began to make small movements.

Sam had more soup.

Eight days after entering the hospital, a should be dead Dean was off the respirator. Although he'd woken, he still was really unaware of what was going on around him.

Sam, still not eating much had begun to sleep a little easier.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The next day, Sam saw his brother looking at him. With a slurred voice, he groggily asked "Sm, you loo li hell." Dean Winchester wasn't out of the woods. But the footpath was clear.

That Thursday, the Earth started spinning again.

Recovery for both brothers was a long process. Pin cleaning, turning, bed sore prevention, antibiotic therapy. Physical therapy...

Sam almost believed he could be a doctor by the time the two headed home. Knowing Dean would need a lot of care, he'd thrown himself in learning all he could about taking care f Dean once they got back to the Bunker.

It had taken a little over two months for the pins to be removed and the cast taken off. His arms were still sore, hips were sore, and he would need physical therapy for a long time to come, but finally Dean was on his way out the door.

The staff had listened indulgently as he fussed at Sam. "You need to eat, Sammy, you've lost too much weight" "Sam, get some sleep. What do you mean you're not tired? I said sleep!"

Every cranky comment only caused a smile and an "Ok Dean. I will."

It took two days to get home. Sam made them stop and rest, causing Dean to mutter about' mother hens', but Sam was too grateful his brother was alive to comment. He just wanted to get home. Home where Dean would be safe and could finish healing.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Three months later, Dean had his last physical therapy appointment. All smiles when he got back, he noticed Sam was tense.

"What happened?"

Giving him a sad look, Sam replied. "Dean, we need to talk. I have something to tell you that you're not going to like."

And talk they would. There may have been some screaming, yelling, slamming doors, but neither fell into the blame game trap. It took a couple of days, but like they had a tendency to do, they worked it out between them. Sam demonstrated, Dean grumbled, but they were all right. Both had learned lessons about secrets.

Dean was pleased to know that Sam had called Jodi Mills and she in turned had called Sheriff Mosely to have him mail the boys weapons and clothes to her. She'd dropped them off on one of her frequent trips to check on them.

The events of Lawler's Pond would last a lifetime. While he continued to hunt, Dean would always carry a slight limp and his shoulders would ache often.

As for Sam, it took a long time for the nightmares to cease. The memories of that long hospital stay would haunt him, yet make him more grateful for Dean.

He would never again allow them to take a case in Mississippi.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Time passed on whether wished for or not. Seasons came and went, people were born, people died.

As for the town of Lawler's Pond, it remained off the beaten path and never really left its small town ways behind.

And like most small towns, it had its own ghost stories, its own mythology that was passed around when tales were told late on summer evenings as warnings or to scare the younger children.

Lawler's Pond had been the home of a terrible, people eating monster that like to sneak into homes and steal small children for supper. According to the legend, about five had disappeared from the local area when two tall, handsome, as heroes must be, strangers came to town asking questions no one could really answer.

According to the story, after a couple of days, the two men had gone into the woods, but were never seen again. No one was sure what had happened, but the killings had stopped.

It was said that on the darkest nights, if the breeze was just right you could hear the fight that took place. People swore you could hear the two men...

 _ **"Sam, behind you..."**_

 _ **"Try for its...!"**_

 _ **"To your right..."**_

 _ **"Silver..."**_

 _ **"Stay down, Dean..."**_

Locals also claimed you could hear one begging the other to live and not leave him.

It was also claimed the pond the town was named for was much larger than it used to be, but there was no proof.

Ones telling the story would say be glad because when it was smaller you could see where "The Incident" as it was locally known, took place and it was a terrible sight.

Families that had been there for generations could all go back to a grandmother's aunt, or an elderly second cousin's father who claimed to have gone out there and seen for themselves.

"Be glad you can't see it!" they would say with great sadness and regret. Voices would lower and whispers would start that the ground, now covered by the Pond had been irrevocably changed.

The once light colored ground that surrounded the pond had had so much blood spilled during the battle, they said, it was permanently stained peach blossom pink and blood red.

You could find the area, it was whispered. Just look for the wild roses that grew where blood fell. You have to go deep into the woods where the trees grow close together and the weeds are so tall a child can stand straight up and still be hidden.

If you find the roses, you can't pick or cut them so don't even think to try. They grow tall, these roses. Tall, strong, with their stems so intertwined you can't tell which stem goes with which bloom. Tangled, wild and with thorns so thick they are a marvel unto themselves

There are never more than two blooms on the bushes no matter how many bushes you find, if you can find them.

Rumor says that no matter what time of year you go, if you are lucky enough to find them, they are blooming perfect and as vivid as the blood spilled there.

Two perfect blood red roses.

 _In the wood, roses blood red_

 _bloom where once a hero bled._

 _Two stood together, one did fall_

 _The other less injured did stand tall._

 _Two heroes came, one did bleed_

 _among the grass and among the weed._

 _The roses remember the deeds did there_

 _a battle most desperate for children to spare._

 _If you go into the woods and the roses you see,_

 _Remember two heroes whose legends here came to be._


End file.
